


Assist

by myrthrilmercury



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2017 Stanley Cup Playoffs, Canon Compliant, Caught, Denial of Feelings, Emotionally Repressed, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Humorous Ending, M/M, Major Character Injury, Masturbation Interruptus, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Frustration, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 05:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12810378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrthrilmercury/pseuds/myrthrilmercury
Summary: Patric's hand injury during the Eastern Conference Final is making certain things difficult. Fortunately, Marc is willing to help.





	Assist

Patric blinked his eyes a few times as he hovered in the realm between confusion and consciousness, gradually getting reacquainted with his surroundings as the fog cleared from his brain.

Huh. Apparently he’d been dreaming. At least he’d gotten _some_ sleep, even though this was the third time he’d woken up that night. He turned his head to glance at the clock on the nightstand.

6:05. Fuck. Patric had to be up in less than half an hour, and that had been far from a good night of sleep. He rolled onto his left side and closed his eyes. Maybe a few more minutes…

His raging morning wood had other ideas.

When shifting around in bed a few times didn’t help matters any, Patric went back to thinking about the Sens’ 1-3-1 forecheck. Focusing on something else usually helped.

Instead, he began having impure thoughts about Karlsson. 

Now his arousal was beginning to get painful. Shit. 

Patric pushed himself into a seated position with his good hand and peered at the other bed, rapidly blinking until his eyes finally began to focus. The dim light shining through a gap in the blackout curtains revealed a motionless Marc on his back.

Good. There was more than enough time for Patric to take care of his little problem before Marc would be awake. He slid out of bed and staggered over to the bathroom before pushing the door shut and leaning against it.

Clearly, he had not thought this all the way through. Not only was the bathroom pitch-dark, but it was impossible to lean and push his shorts down with his non-dominant hand at the same time. After a brief period of indecision, Patric stepped away from the door and fought with the waistband of his shorts for a few minutes, which was much more difficult in the dark, before finally getting them down his knees and stepping out of the material. 

Well, that was taken care of, at least. Patric returned to his previous spot and pressed his weight against the door as he shifted his legs a few times, trying to find an acceptable stance. 

It soon became obvious that there was no way anything was happening as long as he was standing up. His legs were now perfectly aligned, but it was impossible to get his cock in his hand without his arm, back, or neck cramping up. 

Patric sighed in frustration through gritted teeth as he lurched away from the door and climbed into the bathtub. It was way too small for him to lie down, but if he could at least sit down, then maybe—

Patric barely stifled a yelp as he tripped over the shower curtain and fell on his ass with a resounding thud against the linoleum. He remained motionless for several long moments, frozen in terror as he listened for any signs of life from the room. 

Thankfully, there were none. Patric scooched backwards so that his back was pressed against the shower tiles and spread his legs. He closed his eyes as he took his cock into his left hand, trying to banish the awkwardness of not using his regular hand from his mind.

It wasn’t quite the same, and everything was taking a lot longer, but it was working nonetheless. As he tilted his hips forward to make up for the inability to grasp himself as firmly as he preferred, Patric increased his pace, erasing the template of his mind to try and compensate for the slower speed—

Patric froze to a screeching halt when the door opened and the overhead light flickered on. 

In lurched a sleep-addled Marc, who rubbed his eyes with his forearm before gawking at Patric. “What are you doing in there?”

“Nothing!” Patric squealed as he clamped his legs shut, hoping Marc wouldn’t notice where his arm and hand were.

Unfortunately, that was precisely where Marc’s line of vision zeroed in. Patric swore he saw a sudden and instantaneous gleam in Marc’s eyes as Marc grinned mischievously before heading over to the bathtub. 

Patric opened his mouth to object, but no sound escaped him as Marc reached down and grabbed his left bicep. “I-I’m fine, just—”

“No, I get it.” Marc was now clutching Patric’s arm with both hands and attempting to pull Patric towards him.

“What are you doing?!” Patric was too bewildered to sound very intimidating as his muscles gave out and Marc managed to drag him to the side of the bathtub.

“I told you. I get it.” Marc continued yanking at Patric’s arm. “Come on. That can’t be comfortable.”

“Not really,” Patric admitted as he ultimately surrendered and stood up. Clearly there was no getting out of this, given how relentless Marc was.

“Come on.” This time, Patric allowed himself to be led out of the bathtub and back into the room, where Marc gave him a two-handed shove back onto his unmade bed before glancing down at his erection and smiling.

“W-would you stop staring?!” Patric curled up into a ball and squeezed his legs together.

“Is jerking off in the tub a Swedish thing, or is that just you?”

Patric’s body went limp as utter humiliation morphed into outright disbelief. He was reduced to staring blankly at Marc in confusion. 

“I mean, if that’s what gets you off, fine, but—” Marc’s voice trailed off before he sat down on the bed next to Patric. Patric felt Marc’s eyes traveling up and down his body; the seconds feeling like hours before Marc bent over and pushed Patric’s right thigh away from his left. Before Patric could react, Marc seized his cock with his left hand, grasping it nice and hard—just the way he wished he could at this point.

“Wha…” Patric stared right into Marc’s eyes as he forced his jaw, which had been hanging slack, to move. “What are you doing?” 

Marc shrugged nonchalantly with one shoulder as he returned the gaze. “Well, if it’s okay with you, I was thinking of helping you out with your problem here. I know how it is.” Marc’s hand immediately slid from base to tip to base again, sending a jolt through Patric’s spine. 

“L-look, I could just…” The few remaining coherent thoughts in Patric’s brain were rapidly defenestrating as his eyes darted between Marc’s hand and eyes. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” Marc slid his thumb ever so slightly along the edge of the foreskin, making Patric jump.

“You…” Patric’s eyes widened at the implications of the previous statement. “You _want_ to?”

“Been wanting to,” Marc replied with a sly smile; causing Patric’s jaw to drop once more. 

Marc loosened his grip slightly as he spread his fingers apart, tracing individual paths up and down the skin before stopping in sudden realization. “No, wait. Hang on.” Marc pushed himself off the bed and hurried over to the bathroom, where he noisily shuffled around for a few seconds before returning with the complimentary hotel lotion. “If I’m doing this, I’m gonna do it right.”

“Okay then…” Patric watched askance as Marc opened the bottle and dumped a small amount on his hand; all the while wondering what his dick had gotten him into. 

Marc rubbed the lotion between his hands to warm it up before standing up and assessing the situation. “Hmm, you know what? This’ll be easier if you lie back on the pillow.”

Patric nodded and complied, stretching his legs and spreading them slightly. It would probably be less awkward that way as well. There would be less possibility of accidental eye contact. Hell, he could just close his eyes and pretend it wasn’t Marc. It would be so easy to replace him with Malin…

…And yet, he kept stealing frequent glimpses with his peripheral vision as Marc climbed into bed and got adjusted.

Patric took a deep breath and averted his eyes towards the ceiling, staring at the white paint as he attempted to zone out. Was it him, or was the paint starting to crack? 

The sudden sensation of Marc’s hand prompted Patric to lift his head slightly, creating the eye contact he had meant to avoid. Hopefully Marc hadn’t felt him shudder before he immediately tilted his head back and returned to his previous attempt to distract himself. 

Yes, the paint _was_ cracked. Several cracks, as a matter of fact. How many were there? One, two, three, four— _shit,_ that felt good—five, six, seven—wait, was that a different shade of—would Marc just pick up the pace already?! No, that was the same shade of paint, it was just a previous paint job. How many times had they—God, Marc was a tease—nine, ten…no, wait, where was he? Shit, he’d have to start over. One, two, three—

The palm of Marc’s hand brushing over the head of Patric’s cock jolted him up onto his elbows. Marc simply flashed a bright smile at Patric as he paused to slick up his hands again. Marc was preoccupied, so it was a perfect opportunity for Patric to lie back down, count the ceiling cracks, maybe try to figure out the Sens’ forecheck—

But he didn’t.

Instead, he continued to watch as Marc now used both hands, cradling Patric’s balls in one as he resumed the agonizingly slow pace with the other. Marc _was_ teasing Patric, stroking almost lazily, but keeping a nice, firm grip—one Patric rarely got even when his dominant hand worked.

It was now impossible for Patric to look away as his gaze traveled up and down; from the hands that somehow knew _exactly_ what to do, to the intense expression in Marc’s face and eyes somehow reading Patric like a book, to the chiseled abs, to the happy trail beginning just at the top of the waistband of Marc’s sleep pants, to—

Wait a minute. Was Marc—

Patric’s eyes darted back up to Marc’s face. Marc was now panting shallowly through his mouth as he quickened the pace just a little bit. Intrigued, Patric looked back down at Marc’s pants, where he realized that yes, Marc was _hard._

“H-hey…” The initial words barely made it out of Patric’s mouth. “D…Do I get a say in this?”

“Hmm?” Marc stopped and cocked his head to one side.

“I’m naked and you’re not. How is that fair?”

Marc nodded and grinned. “You’re right, it’s not.” Before Patric could reply, Marc scooted back towards the bottom half of the bed and raised himself into a full kneel before pushing his pants down his waist. Patric only caught a brief glimpse of Marc’s dick before he lay down and pushed the material off his legs and onto the floor. However, from what little he did catch, Marc was standing at full attention.

Now freed from the confines of his pants, Marc crawled back towards Patric and knelt directly over his lap before rearing back and sitting on Patric’s thighs. Arousal rushed through Patric’s veins at the sudden gesture of dominance; causing him to entertain a few thoughts of his own.

“Can you bring the lotion over here?” Patric requested.

“Oh?” Marc beamed playfully as he retrieved it from its previous spot on the bed. “Something on your mind?”

“Yeah.” Patric opened the palm of his good hand and held it up, offering it to Marc. “I wanna make you feel as good as you’re making me feel right now.”

Marc hissed as he poured some lotion into Patric’s palm and took Patric’s good hand in both of his, rubbing it quickly to warm everything up.

But Marc’s hands remained there, lifting and simply entwining Patric’s larger hand between them; interlacing the spaces between Patric’s fingers with eight fingers of their own.

They both remained still for a few moments as Patric’s heart beat faster and faster; exchanging deep stares while Patric curled his fingers over Marc’s knuckles. 

There truly was something gleaming in Marc’s eyes, flashing like the beacon of a lighthouse announcing the presence of rocky shores. Yet even with his previous mortification and vulnerability, Patric was now perfectly content to run aground over the shoals, now that Marc was opening the gates; allowing Patric into the hallowed grounds of his psyche. He could only hope that Marc could see the same in his eyes; all that he wanted to express but didn’t know how. 

Patric released his grip when he felt the matching erection brush against his own. Marc’s vision remained fixated on Patric, even as he released Patric’s hand and moved his own back down to the base of Patric’s length. Patric broke his gaze momentarily as he took Marc’s cue, looking down as he wrapped his hand around Marc’s shaft.

Once their mutual eye contact resumed, Patric moved his hand slowly, imitating Marc’s speed. He wasn’t quite sure what to focus on: Marc’s cock stiffening in his hand, the sensations running up and down his spine, or Marc’s parted lips and panting breaths. 

Marc paused for more lotion before seizing Patric’s cock once more and stroking it fiercely, thrilling in the audible slick of the mutual slide of skin against skin as Patric’s thumb wandered away from his fist, zigzagging back and forth along the undershaft of Marc’s dick independently of the rhythmic downstroke of the adjoining fingers.

Patric was heaving through gritted teeth now as Marc removed his hand from Patric’s cock before pulling back and coating his hands with a substantial amount of lotion, then placing his own cock right on top of Patric’s. Marc proceeded to wrap both of his fists around their dicks before bucking his hips back and forth, strangling the moan in the back of Patric’s throat before it could escape. 

Marc was bound and determined to do all of the work himself. He placed one hand behind him, resting it on Patric’s left thigh for balance as he continued thrusting into the other, gaze transfixed on Patric the entire time. Patric was equally mesmerized as he allowed Marc to seize the reins, reduced to resting his hands on the comforter while simply watching in arousal and astonishment as the glimmer in Marc’s eyes clouded over with pure, unadulterated lust.

Precome seeped from both of their cocks now as Marc adjusted his position; spreading his legs slightly wider as he coated his hands and their twinned shafts with the remainder of the lotion. Marc tapped Patric’s good hand with two fingers. Patric obliged, raising his hand and offering his palm to Marc, who proceeded to coat it with the excess lotion from his hands. 

Patric slid his fingers across the slit of Marc’s cock, catching the seeping precome and smearing it all over the head and foreskin. The hitches in Marc’s breath with each movement spurred him to continue; tracking his newly-slicked fingers up and down the shaft before wrapping them around the base and pressing his palm down. 

Marc tilted his hips upward, gliding into Patric’s fist as he seized Patric’s dick with both hands. Patric could barely keep a steady rhythm at this point; not with one hand stroking up and down his shaft while the other simultaneously twisted around the head. 

But apparently it was working for Marc, who withdrew his hands and pulled away before sitting back down on Patric’s thighs and pressing their cocks together in both fists once more. Marc was frantic now, thrusting so hard the bed shook; yet never looked away from Patric, not even as he began to moan softly with every drive of his hips.

Patric squeezed his eyes shut as he craned the back of his head against the pillow, unable to stifle quiet moans of his own as his body quaked and his cock began twitching. _“Ah_ —God, I— _unh_ —I’m gonna—” 

Marc pulled his hips away before clutching Patric’s dick one final time, jerking maniacally until the first rope of come spurted out. Marc squeezed tighter and slowly slid his hand down to the base, milking Patric dry, pooling the come at the tip before it dripped onto Patric’s stomach.

Patric lifted his head and opened his eyes to see a beaming Marc lovingly set his now overly sensitive cock down onto his abdomen before gently letting go. Once Marc rose back into a full kneel, Patric realized that Marc still hadn’t come yet.

He was going to fix that. 

Patric bent his knees, placing his feet flat on the bed before opening his legs just wide enough to fit under Marc’s thighs. Marc got the idea and leaned back against them, pushing Patric’s legs further apart and ankles onto the bed as he rested his hands on Patric’s inner thighs.

The beacon in Marc’s eyes blazed anew, flaring brighter than before as Patric stared directly into the flame; neither looking away from the wildfire spreading across Marc’s face and eyes nor paying any mind to his technique as he stroked as hard and fast as grasp and range of motion would allow, hoping Marc could see through the translucent veil shrouding his soul as he attempted to lift it, as words were no longer sufficient to convey everything Marc needed to know. 

Even though Marc was already trembling, the shudder once their eye contact deepened was completely different. Marc might not have realized what his eyes and countenance showed now as Patric reached the center of his soul’s labyrinth, but Patric knew him now; now that he had seen through to the very essence of Marc’s being.

Marc’s eyes, visage, and body weren’t only displaying complete trust. They were also betraying Marc’s vulnerability, showing parts of him that others were never meant to see, perhaps not even Vero—but gladly showing them to Patric as he laid himself bare. 

“Come on.” Patric’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Give it to me.” 

That was all Marc needed for his hips to slam forward and his nails to dig into the skin of Patric’s thighs as he shot all over Patric’s chest. Marc lost his balance and threw his arms in front of him as he keeled forward before riding out the rest of the spasms with his hands planted firmly on Patric’s shoulders. 

Marc’s body shuddered one last time before his arms gave out and he collapsed onto Patric’s chest. Patric immediately wrapped his arms around Marc; resting his injured hand on Marc’s left shoulder and his good hand on the small of Marc’s back.

It suddenly occurred to him: should he really have done that? Should he even continue? Was it even appropriate to touch Marc that way, even after what had just transpired?

And yet…not only did he _want_ to touch Marc, he _needed_ to. 

They remained silent and motionless for a little while, simply catching their breath as their hearts slowed.

Marc heaved one final drawn-out sigh before regaining his bearings and pushing himself back onto his arms before regarding Patric with a look of both admiration and concern. “You okay?”

_I think I just had a religious experience._ “Yeah,” Patric replied with a quick nod. “…Thanks.”

_Thanks?_ They’d just left the natural world and ascended into the realm of the metaphysical, seen through to and come to truly know one another as they’d both bared their souls, given each other earth-shattering orgasms, and all Patric could muster was _thanks?_

It was faint now, but Patric could see the flame in Marc’s eyes as Marc pushed himself off of Patric’s lap and sat down next to him on the mattress. “Don’t mention it,” Marc replied with a grin.

Patric looked up at Marc, noticing the sticky mess on his chest. He then looked down to observe the same on his own chest and stomach. “Well, I wasn’t gonna take a shower until after practice, but I guess I have to now.”

Marc nodded. “Me too. Besides, you need someone to make sure you don’t fall on your ass again.”

“You _heard_ that?!” Patric drew back in surprise.

“What do you think woke me up? I went to see what was going on.”

_“Knulla.”_ Patric rolled his eyes before something occurred to him. “Hey, so, um…” Patric turned his head to face Marc. “You said…you’d been _wanting_ to do that?”

“Yeah,” Marc replied. “Why?”

“That’s what I want to know.” Patric’s eyes narrowed in earnest as he stared intently at Marc, searching for the beacon in those russet eyes. “Why?”

“Because…” Marc’s skin flushed as he turned his head away from Patric. “I…I mean, I just…I felt bad for you since I knew your dominant hand’s broken, and I, well…I thought…” Marc turned his head forward, looking straight into Patric’s eyes as the pharos in his own flashed its signal, one that Patric immediately understood. “I thought you could use some help.” 

“Mmm.” Patric smiled and nodded. “I’m glad it was you.” He wasn’t about to press the subject any further, since he’d then be at risk of exposing his greatest secret: _I don’t want it to be anyone but you._

“Good.” Marc beamed brightly, like the first sunrise after two months of darkness. “I’m glad.”

Patric then realized he couldn’t see the clock with Marc sitting on the bed. “How much time do we have?”

“We don’t have to be downstairs until 7:30, remember? We’re fine. Come on, let’s get cleaned up.”

***

They didn’t have the same room on their return trip to Ottawa, but judging from the presence of the middle-aged Chinese woman when they arrived at the room to find the door open, they had the same housekeeper. They’d seen her as they’d come and gone during their first stay, but hadn’t really spoken to her beyond exchanging pleasantries.

“Oh, you again. You need anything extra while I have the cart here? Shampoo? Soap?” She eyed the pair questionably. “Lotion?”

Marc barely suppressed a giggle.

“I thought so. You went through six bottles the last time. What in the hell do you need all that lotion for, anyway?”

There was no answer from the pair beyond hysterical laughter as the housekeeper simply stared at them in confounded silence.


End file.
